But the other night, we talked and when I asked him why it was that he never called me, that we never talked, why we never got together - he responded by telling me that he can't see me, can't talk to me because he is still in love with me.
Love.
A word we never even used in the almost two years we were casually seeing each other. A word that ultimately would have led to the demise of our relationship had I even considered using it. Because we were casual. It was the very fact that I started to feel that way about him that our ending occurred. Well, there were other things. But those things wouldn't have mattered to me had I not started to feel the L-word creeping up and becoming an uncontrollable force. It was what caused me to get out. Because, Dear Reader, he did not feel that way about me.
And now, he says he did and continues to and so much so that he can't progress in the relationship that he is currently in. That the feelings he has had for me are preventing him from taking the logical and expected steps in his relationship. Because he can't get over me.
What?
When the hell did that happen? Because I was on the same ride as he was and I don't remember that particular hill. Never in the entire time that we were together did he even breathe so much as a word about anything more than "caring" about me. Had he told me he felt that way and wanted more from our situation at the time, I would have gladly obliged. And he knew that.
So now, I feel almost burdened with this information. Mostly because I don't know what to do with it. Because it's been two years since this whole thing, maybe longer. And because I had to FORCE myself to get over him. And it took a very long time. And now, I'm on the other side of it all. I'm free of the almost unbearable pull that was him, I can offer up friendship for god sakes!
But what's worse is that I don't even know if he was proposing to do more with that information that offer it to me. It felt like he was just confessing it to me in some last ditch effort to purge it from his system in order to move on.
Whatever the reason, I feel like I have this package now. And truly, I don't know what to do with it. Do I put it away, in the back of my closet and hope to forget about it? Do I return it? Do I put it on the table by my bed and just look at it and wonder what the fuck to do with it for the next two years?
I don't know.
But I do know that I sent him a text yesterday and called him today and neither of those attempts at communication were reciprocated so perhaps the package was empty after all and I should try and forget the moments in which it was given to me as well as all of the things that led to its very existence.
Or maybe I am jumping the gun and in a few hours I will receive a phone call to which I won't know how to respond.
Labels: Being a Chic, Mr. I, My pathetic excuse for a love life
